Growth
by razorclean
Summary: Draco finds someone to fulfill his secret fantasy. He didn't think it would be Hermione Granger.
1. Chapter 1

The summer he turned fifteen, he found a book in the Manor's extensive library called Magia Enim Voluntas Dai. He doesn't think he was supposed to find it—but then again, maybe Father didn't care if he did. Partly because he was too busy with things other than his son's behavior. And partly because, even if there was no Dark Lord, he would find it normal, even desired, for a healthy teen boy to take pleasure in a book like this—something Draco's not so sure about now, at twenty five.

The biggest appeal of Magia Enim Voluntas Dai for fifteen year old Draco was the illustrations—the magical, moving illustrations. He took the book to his bedroom and spent hours there, when his parents were otherwise engaged for the day, staring at looping illustrations of sex acts and body modifications and things he'd never thought to dream of, wanking himself raw under the covers.

Now he's older, he still has the book.

He shouldn't have the book. Most of what's in it is objectionable at best. Potions for bending and circumventing consent—brainwashing and mind control and insatiable, desperate, uncontrollable lust. Spells for body modification intended for men to use on women, expecting, in several instances, that the woman's thoughts on the matter were irrelevant. Accounts of incest, bestiality, bodily fluids where they decidedly shouldn't be, and other things that made Draco's skin crawl.

But there's one spell in the book…one set of pages Draco always returns to. The reason he still has the book. Something he's never found anywhere else.

Every time he wanks to it, he feels so ashamed, and it's stupid, probably, it's ridiculous, because compared to all the things he could be masturbating about in this book, this one's…well, it's not dangerous, or even all that taboo.

Straight men tend to like breasts. This is not unusual. Plenty of men touch themselves looking at and thinking about large, full breasts, about cleavage, about jiggling and bouncing, about groping and clutching and sucking.

It's just…well, Draco likes them big. Bigger than big. Huge.

And that feels so crass. So common.

That isn't all, either. This book isn't the only book—or magazine, or establishment—where Draco can see huge breasts. The reason Draco keeps this book, the reason he still takes it out from its secret, locked place in his bedside table and frantically jerks his cock as he stares at it, until he comes all over himself, is in this book, he can see big tits grow.

Not naturally—rapidly. Well, really he likes it to go a bit slow, but not a normal, over-time kind of slow. A slow build, breasts growing and growing in real time, until at the end—of maybe an hour or so—they're so big their owner can't even move. Bigger than her head. Bigger than the rest of her. So heavy she'd fall over if she stood up. That she'd be beached like a whale or wobbling like a turtle on its back, practically nothing anymore but massive, fat, round, jiggling tits.

In Magia Enim Voluntas Dai, Draco can watch this happen in five separate moving illustrations. Breasts ripping fabric, sending buttons pinging away from them, bursting out of bras, bouncing and round like only the breasts in the book are. The bigger they get in real life, the saggier they seem, but the ones in these illustrations aren't like that. Well, a couple of them are, and Draco likes those too, but the other three pictures have breasts that stay so perky they look stupid, like big, rippling balloons, and Draco loves that.

It's so embarrassing. It's undignified. It's something some horny teen Gryffindor would like, some newly sex crazed neanderthal pumping his dick and drooling and calling them "titties" and "sweater puppies."

And yet…Draco knows that when he's stroking his cock and playing with his balls and watching the women in the book rip through their clothes and get engulfed by the weight of their breasts, this is part of what makes him so hard over the whole thing. The crassness of it all. The…the embarrassment of it. The fact it makes him kind of pathetic, stupid with lust. Just…horny. In his head, he starts saying things like that, like "horny," like "tits" and "titties" and "melons" and whatever other stupid things he thinks lust-crazed neanderthal men say, and it makes him harder, it makes him jerk his dick faster.

Whenever he remembers these are real spells and potions, something he could do, could make happen, he comes hard.

But he can't really make it happen.

What woman in her right mind wants to look like that, to feel that? It's a male fantasy, entirely a stupid male fantasy, and when this book was written, nobody cared about that, but Draco, at twenty five, does care. Whenever he comes all over himself staring at a woman balancing on her enormous balloon tits, he is awash with shame.

But he doesn't get rid of the book.

Outside these fantasies, Draco tries to be respectful; his mother impressed upon him the importance of respecting women, and he does. He does not see them, as some men do, like some kind of separate species. But sometimes…sometimes he sees a pair of tits, and, well—God. He won't be able to stop thinking about them. He tries to keep his fantasies generic, or to keep them centered on those illustrated women he's been stroking to since he was fifteen, but…

The thing is, he works with Hermione Granger.

It's awful, and it's terrible, and it's shameful, but Granger grew such a pair of tits.

It isn't shameful because of her blood. Draco's not like that anymore. They are no longer antagonistic. In fact, they have a fairly good working relationship.

But it's Granger.

She doesn't exactly show them off. It isn't like her to do that. So for a long while, Draco didn't even quite realize—even with the way his body reacts to breasts. But a few months ago, she wore a low-cut dress to a Ministry event, more low-cut then Draco's ever seen on her, and he got an erection in public. He's twenty-five, and he got hard in public looking at Hermione Granger's cleavage.

Nobody noticed, he doesn't think. He excused himself and willed his cock into submission in the loo. He didn't wank, couldn't quite accept the shame of that, just thought hard about something else until it mostly went down. (It took a few tries to keep it there.)

Granger's tits are huge. He'd known, vaguely, they were large, but that cleavage, right there in front of him—God, he could bury his face in there and never find his way out. When she turned to laugh at something stupid Potter said, fuck—they jiggled a little. They moved.

He tried not to, but the moment he got home that night, he got in bed, screwed up his eyes, and furiously jacked off thinking of Granger's breasts. Thinking of grabbing and squeezing them, the way they'd spill out from his hands, too big for him to get a full grab, thinking of sucking on them, what her nipples might look like—and then—and then what would have happened if they'd grown, then and there. If they'd grown and spilled right out of her dress. He'd come then, come hard and gasping and thinking about Granger.

Thinking about her breasts spontaneously inflating, like a freak.

And now every time he sees her at work in her stuffy button-ups, his mouth goes dry, and try as he might to focus on the images in Magia Enim Voluntas Dai when he jerks off later, all of them end up wearing her face, and wearing her button-ups, and it's her breasts he's picturing breaking through the buttons and growing and growing and growing.

When summer arrives, Draco decides he can't go on like this.

He used to think of Granger occasionally when he wanked, and he'd try to keep it focused on the image of her tits in that dress, maybe pressed up against a button up. Now, she's wearing thinner clothes, and less of them, and she's still Granger, so it isn't anything inappropriate, but he's spent every night for the past week pumping his cock and letting his imagination go wild, because he can't stop himself anymore—picturing scenarios in which Granger's breasts overflow from the dress, grow until she stumbles, their weight dragging her to the floor—in which they pop all the buttons on her shirt and rip her bra and bounce out right in front of him—Draco kneading them and sucking on them in a frenzy until he suffocates.

But he can't do this. He can't do this and continue to work with Granger and continue to avoid being a horrible, predatory freak.

So he decides he needs to get this horrible fetish out of his system.

He can't do it with Granger—obviously. But these are real spells and potions. Surely there's a woman somewhere, anywhere, who might feel sexy about her tits growing. They don't even have to get as big as Draco really wants them. He can just watch and feel them grow a little. He is handsome, and he doesn't tend to have a hard time finding sex partners—usually with quite large breasts, and women like that usually expect men to like their tits. Surely there are clubs that might cater to…the sort of clientele that would like this. Needs must, he has money. There are sex workers who specialize in fetishes. He can find someone.

In the end, Blaise points him in the right direction.

He doesn't actually tell Blaise exactly what he's looking for—he thinks he'd die of humiliation. But he lets it slip that he's looking for maybe something a little…weird, and Blaise knows all about weird sex. He directs Draco to a service called—not so subtly—FetishMagic, but it's not as if Draco can be picky about the name of the thing, so he gets a form.

The form is meant to help him get anonymously matched with witches with similar…interests. On it he finds an alarmingly long list of potential fetishes and kinks for which he is meant to circle all caps YES, normal yes, maybe, or all caps NO. When he sees "breast expansion" right there on the list, his heart begins to race. He bites his lips. He licks them. He gnaws at one of his fingernails. And then he circles YES. After a brief moment of thought, he circles YES twice more, then feels embarrassed for having done it—too desperate.

He circles "yes" and "maybe" plenty, but the only things for which he circles "YES" are "breast expansion," "large breasts," and "abnormal sizes." (He manages to control himself and avoid multiple circles for the last two.) In for a penny, he thinks.

He gets a response a fortnight later.

The envelope contains the witch's own form, as well as some instructions about how they might contact one another, should they wish to.

Trembling, he unfolds the parchment and scans it for what he really wants.

Next to "breast expansion," she has circled, "YES."

Heart pounding, his eyes fly to her stats—breast size: 36J.

He sucks in a breath.

His cock is hardening already.

He doesn't think he's ever been with anyone past an E cup, and he thought that was a lot. 36J, and she wants them bigger—at least temporarily. She wants that.

A real woman wants that, and he can send her a message. He can make it happen.

His face is burning, but he's hard enough to find the bravery to write a note reading: 36J? Decent size, but they could be much bigger, couldn't they? If you're interested, I can help with that.

When he puts down his quill, it fully occurs to him that he's been massaging his cock through his trousers with his other hand as he writes. He's so hard.

After he sends the note out with his owl to the proper address (given on a magically redacted note), he takes out his cock and comes with just a few pumps.

God, what's it going to be like when he actually…when it actually happens?

Her response arrives that same night.

They could be MUCH bigger. Are you sure you can get them as big as I want? As long as I'm still able to walk around, they're too small.

Fuck.

She wants this.

Dizzy with lust, Draco writes, I can make you so big, darling. As big as you want. Bigger. You won't be able to sit up, let alone walk. But there's no need for you to move. I have plenty of ideas for you that don't require you moving at all.

He can't believe he's writing rubbish like this down, for another person to see—for a woman to see. But she responds, I like the sound of that. I don't need to move. I don't need to fit into clothes, either. If they're too big to fit into clothing without tearing right through it, I suppose I'll just have to accept it and keep them out.

Here's a question for you. Are you feeling like dominating me? Humiliating me by inflating my breasts until I'm only capable of getting used by your thick cock? Or do you want the opposite, "darling?" Do you want to be a slave to my fat tits? Smothered and drooling over them? Let me know. I'm quite happy to be a part of either.

Thousands of possibilities flood Draco's mind, keeping his cock at attention.

He doesn't know what he wants. If this is the only time this will ever happen, what does he need? What does he need to keep him from perving over Granger, to keep him satisfied with fantasies for the rest of forever?

What can he admit he wants?

In the end, he sends a response that results in a back and forth about plans—more detailed interests, hard limits, the bones of a scene. Eventually, they settle on this Saturday night to meet, at his flat. He is less likely, apparently, to have visitors turning up out of the blue.

He has no idea how he's going to wait until then. He thinks he might destroy his cock before he gets there, with the way he's undoubtedly going to go at it all week.

He should have known the whole thing was too good to be true.

Yes, a woman turns up at his flat Saturday night, exactly on time. And yes, she's the woman who has been writing him.

But she's also Hermione Granger.

They stare at each other, stunned.

"Is this a trick?" Granger demands. Draco doesn't know whether she's conscious of it or not, but she immediately crosses her arms over her chest, trying to hide her breasts, encased snugly in one of those damn button-ups—except this one seems tighter than her work tops, the buttons already straining.

She can't really hide them successfully. Draco can't quite stop himself from staring for a moment at her arms pressed tight against the flesh of her huge, encased breasts.

36J, he knows now. God.

He should be turning her away immediately. This is bad. Unprofessional. Inappropriate.

His cock has other ideas.

"I was going to ask the same question," Draco says faintly, trying to think of anything to keep the blood from rushing to his dick, but here Granger is, giant tits right in front of him, and she has been talking to him about them—about—growing. His mouth is dry.

"Why would I trick you?" Granger snaps. "Why would I admit to you I think about—" She snaps her mouth shut, as if it's too much to say. Draco understands. She hugs herself tighter, but this helps nothing—the flesh of her breasts is squeezed tighter. Draco can't tear his eyes away. He should. He needs to. But fuck.

"Why would I admit to you I…think about," he says, using her words. "Why would I, in my right mind, let anyone in my day to day life know I have the terrible, humiliating desires of a fifteen year old Gryffindor athlete?"

Granger, for once, doesn't seem to have anything to say in response. She just swallows. She loosens her arms a little.

Her breasts…God, they strain against the fabric of her shirt like something out of Draco's wildest, most private fantasies, but…

"You really do, don't you?"

"What?" Draco says distractedly, and Granger laughs.

He snaps his head up to make eye contact. She is smirking.

"You really are desperately horny for tits," she says, matter of factly, Hermione Granger, saying "horny" and "tits" right in front of him, with her big boobs so close. He told her this kind of crass talk turned him on—but that was before he knew who she was, before she knew about him.

"Merlin," says Draco.

"Am I allowed to come in?" says Granger.

Draco, knowing exactly how much he shouldn't, lets her in and shuts the door behind her.

"We shouldn't do this," he says, as if he hasn't just locked his door.

"Maybe not," Granger says, shrugging. "But do you want to?"

"We work together," says Draco. "And I…well, I'm…me."

"Yes," says Granger. She takes some vials out of her bag. He can't take his eyes off the straining buttons of her top. "You're you. Pathetic little Draco Malfoy, drooling over Hermione Granger's tits."

"Oh," says Draco.

"Is that okay?" says Granger.

It shouldn't be. It's a terrible idea. With the real dynamics of their past, enacting this kind of fantasy is…ill advised.

"It's okay," Draco says, and fuck, he's breathless, and it's obvious.

"You want to see them badly, don't you?" Granger asks.

Draco swallows hard. He doesn't know if he trusts himself to speak. All the blood from his brain is rapidly rerouting to his cock. He nods.

"I know you do," says Granger. "Look at you pitching a tent. Your cock started getting hard the moment I turned up."

Hermione Granger is saying "cock" to him.

"What would you like to say if you want to stop?" Granger asks.

"We can…colors," says Draco. He can't believe how incoherent he already is.

"Green, yellow, red? Red to stop?"

"Yes," says Draco.

"Be polite," says Granger. "I know you were raised to be polite."

Draco sucks in a breath. "Yes, please," he tries.

"Good boy," says Granger briskly. "Color?"

"Uh, um, green," Draco says, embarrassed but so, so hard.

"Good. Now, you don't get to choose when you see my tits. I do. But you can choose whether you want to use this." Granger picks up one of the vials. The other one, Draco knows, is a breast expansion potion—it's the exact shade of purple it should be. But the one Granger's holding—he's not sure. It's a brilliant magenta, brighter than Draco thinks he's seen in a potion. "Do you know what this is?"

"No," Draco admits.

"Really, such a dirty boy, and you don't know what this is?"

Draco's face heats, but…his cock likes it.

"It's a lust potion," says Granger. "It gets rid of your inhibitions and makes you last longer and for more rounds. And of course, it floods you with lust—like you've never felt before."

Draco stares at it.

He stares at Granger's breasts.

He already feels like a pathetic randy teenager, standing here hard in front of Hermione Granger, but—but what if he could get rid of his inhibitions, if he could…God, the thought of being as truly and utterly pathetic and horny as the back of his brain really is, in front of her and her huge tits…

"Do you like the thought of that, Malfoy?" says Granger.

Draco nods.

"Be polite," says Granger.

"Yes, yes, please, Ms. Granger," Draco stumbles out.

He doesn't even know where the "miss" came from, but Granger sucks in a little breath when she hears it. And then she smirks again.

"Okay, dirty boy," she says. "Are you ready to show me exactly what you really are?"

"Yes," Draco says. He doesn't know if he can bring himself to drop a "miss" again, but he scrambles to add, "Please."

"Here's the rules," says Granger. "I'm going to make these bigger." Slowly, gently, she grabs on to her own tits, gently kneading them through her shirt. Draco can't take his eyes off the motion. "You'll like that, won't you?"

"Yes," Draco says faintly.

"I know you will," says Granger. "But you are not to touch them until they come out of my shirt."

Draco just keeps staring at her long fingers kneading, kneading, kneading that flesh, that fat that looks so soft and warm.

"Do you understand, Malfoy? They're going to grow so much they're going to pop right out, and you're going to love that, but you are not to touch them until they're naked. Until they pop all my buttons and are fully exposed. Then, you can touch them. Color?"

"Green," Draco says quickly. "Green."

"Good," says Granger. She hands him the pink vial. "Drink half of it…darling."

He shudders at the "darling" without knowing he would, and before he can think better of it…he swigs half the bottle down.

Granger takes the other vial and drinks half of that.

For a moment, they wait, Draco trembling with a heady combination of lust and nerves. Granger settles herself in Draco's armchair, waiting with an air of authority that makes Draco feel dizzy.

And then he begins to feel…heat. Something hot, starting in the pit of his belly. He squirms.

"Are you feeling it, Malfoy?" Granger asks.

Draco takes in a shaky breath. "I—I think so."

"Yeah?" says Granger, staring at him…hungrily. She's looking at him hungrily.

He gasps as the heat spreads from his belly to his limbs, to his face, to his groin, and then fuck.

"Color?" Granger says.

"Green," Draco gasps. He scrambles to his knees. He doesn't know why. It's just instinct. It's where he wants to be, on his knees in front of her. His cock is hardening rapidly, and it was already hard, but now it's—it nearly hurts, how fucking stiff it is, how hot, his whole body is hot and there's a pair of full, fat breasts in front of him, 36J.

Draco grabs the bulge in his trousers.

"No hands," says Granger.

Draco whines.

"No hands, dirty boy," she says, leaning over to slap his hand away, and her tits graze his face.

He moans. He moans, like she's actually touched his cock, not simply briefly pressed the flesh of her huge breasts against his cheek.

He wants to grab them, to suck on them. But she said no. He said he understood. He can't, not yet. He groans.

She sits back. "You love these," she says, gripping her breasts, "Don't you?"

Draco thrusts his hips up, humping nothing, desperate to touch his cock but holding back by a thread. His cock throbs. His hands twitch. "Yes," he says. "Yes."

And then—and then they start growing.

Slowly, the flesh of her already enormous breasts extends, blooms outward, pushing against her top. The buttons strain further.

"Oh," Granger moans. "It feels good."

Draco lets out a horribly embarrassing, incoherent sound, something like a "guh."

He comes.

Right there, in his pants, without touching himself, just staring at Granger's large breasts as they begin to slowly fill her top further.

"Did you come?" Granger says. She's breathing heavily now, but she sounds delighted.

"Yes," Draco says. His brain's getting very fuzzy. He can no longer imagine why he shouldn't be honest in front of this woman with these brilliant tits, stretching and growing in front of him exactly like he wants. He can ask what he wants and get it. If his cock wants something, his cock wants something—he can't ignore it. There's no possible way to ignore his cock. Not right now. He makes another "guh" noise. His cock's getting hard again, rapidly, unnaturally, but he only knows that, the unnatural part, very faintly. Who cares, who cares about anything but how fucking horny he is? "I want to, to, I want them," he says stupidly.

"Be specific, Malfoy, darling."

"Oh," Draco gasps. "I want to see them, I want to see your giant, fat tits, please."

"They're right here, aren't they?"

God, they're growing. They're growing. Slowly, slowly, they stretch and strain against the fabric, spill out from over her bra, Draco can see it through the white of the shirt. He shoves his hands in his pants, groping for his hot, hard dick, and Granger says, "No, naughty boy—I didn't say touch yourself."

"Please, please," Malfoy whines. "I want to touch it, I want to feel good looking at your big, big titties, please…" His hand on his cock feels better than it's ever felt in his life. He moans loudly.

"I said no," Granger says firmly, and she leans over to wrench his hand out of his trousers.

Her breasts engulf his face.

He comes again.

Granger laughs. His face burns, but so does every other part of him. She leans back. Oh, they're straining so hard at the buttons. Oh, it's hanging on by a thread. They're still growing. Draco's pants are sticky and his cock is still hard.

He realizes he's drooling.

"Look at you," says Granger. "Pathetic little Malfoy…you want my tits so badly."

"Yes, yes," says Draco.

"You can't wait until they burst right out."

Draco makes another stupid sound, this one something like a grunt, thrusting his hips, getting the tiniest, barest, nothing-est friction, not nearly enough, as his rock hard cock rubs against his sticky wet pants.

"They're going to pop right out for you," says Granger. "And then you can touch them. Once every single button is popped, and my tits are free, then you can touch them, Malfoy. You can put your hands on them, and your mouth on them…"

Draco moans, willing those buttons to pop free. They're so close. Her tits are still growing. Those massive boobs are getting bigger and bigger, enormous, unreal, right in front of his eyes—

One of the buttons pops.

Draco groans. He thinks he might come again, but he doesn't.

"Ooh," Hermione sighs. "Oh, Malfoy, you have no idea, it feels so good."

"Want them," Draco manages, his words sounding thick and slurred. His dick hurts. He's desperate and throbbing and thrusting his hips at nothing, his erection straining hard against his wet, sticky pants, pitching a glaringly obvious tent.

"I know, dirty boy," says Hermione. "How about you rut on something while you watch? You shouldn't use your hands, but I don't want you to go too mad, do I? I want you to be able to see when these fat, round tits burst right out."

"Fuck," Draco gasps, and without even thinking further about it, without any head for the consequences or his reputation or his coworker in front of him, he grabs a pillow from the couch, tosses it on the floor, and gets down on all fours above it. He wastes no time beginning to hump it. He has to. His cock is so stiff, so hot, so desperate. He moans, uninhibited, as he humps the pillow, watching as another one of Granger's buttons pops. Her tits seem to expand even further, faster, in that moment, and Draco drives his hard, clothed cock against the pillow and comes for a third time, moaning and twitching his way through it.

By now, Granger seems overcome by the sensation of her expanding tits. "Oh," she says breathily, chest heaving as she grips the sides of the chair hard. "Oh, Malfoy, they're getting huge."

"Huge," Draco gasps, rutting right through his orgasm with his cock still stiff, desperate for more. Fuck, this potion.

"Feels so good, Malfoy."

"So good," Draco says throatily, pounding the pillow hard. "Big fucking—tits, fuck."

Granger's tits burst out of her shirt.

She gasps.

Buttons fly across the room and they spill right out, bare, naked, the flimsy bra she deliberately wore long since destroyed. They're huge. They're enormous. Rapidly approaching bigger than her head, like two big, fleshy beach balls, nipples erect. They're magnificent.

Draco's on them in a second. He doesn't even remember moving. One second, he's humping the pillow, the next, he's latched onto Granger's massive breasts, his hands absolutely dwarfed by their size, sucking desperately at her right tit, and they're still growing, he can feel it. In her lap, rubbing his cock desperately against her knee, sucking wetly on this big, soft, overwhelming breast, Draco comes again.

Granger is moaning. She pushes herself off the chair, no longer, it seems, capable of holding up the weight of her glorious titties. She lies down on her back, chest heaving, groaning and rubbing furiously at her clit as Draco buries himself in heaven like he never thought he'd be able to experience. He can feel the flesh expanding beneath him as he sucks and kneads and rubs and thrusts—eventually they're so fucking big he's rutting against one tit while he sucks it at the same time, his pants down, smearing come all over her soft, warm flesh.

They're so big she can't even titty fuck him—they miss that window. So he ruts against them and rubs his come all over them—so much come when his cock won't go down, when his body keeps on producing it like this, like never before—and a few times just stands over her, staring at her tits, now so massive they're both much bigger than her head, squashed by gravity yet still beautifully, wonderfully round, and he jerks off and comes on them, watching her moan and struggle to move in any way at all.

This is beyond his wildest fantasies. He humps desperately at a breast nearly as big as he is as Granger lies beneath him groaning in pleasure/pain. He's almost constantly coming at this point, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, the only thing in his brain a constant litany of boobs, giant, fat, soft, round boobs.

This goes on until he passes out.

When he comes to, he and Granger are covered in dried come, and Granger's tits have shrunk back to their—still ample, still magnificent—normal size.

Humiliation rushes to Draco's head. The things he said. The euphemisms. The humping. The drooling.

"Don't panic," says Granger.

He looks at her carefully. His cock hurts. Fuck. He doesn't think he'll get hard for another week at least, even if Granger's tits were to burst out like that in the middle of work, in front of everyone.

His cock twitches. It hurts, but it does. Okay, maybe he's a freak.

"That was incredibly hot, Malfoy," says Granger.

Draco doesn't know what to say.

"I promise you," she says. "I'll never tell anyone. Not another soul, ever. And if you'd like…next time, you could…dominate me. Let me take the potion."

Draco's stupid, pained cock twitches again.

"Fuck," he says. "I can't believe I did this with you."

"I can't really believe it, either," says Granger. "But it happened. And if it happened once—I don't see why it can't happen again."

Draco stares at her naked, brilliant, J cup tits, the way they move as she breathes. He swallows. "I guess," he says, "I don't see why not either."


	2. Chapter 2

Draco is going to take Granger out tonight.

It is not, however, exactly the sort of outing either of them are liable to tell their friends and family about—and it wouldn't be even if they were different people, with a different history.

Draco learned of the venue, like he learned of the owl service, via Blaise. Blaise doesn't ask what Draco wants from it, so Draco doesn't ask why Blaise knows all this. Well, he knows the basic _why_, but he doesn't know the details, and that's fine.

Draco doesn't ask if Blaise is into BDSM or piss or feet or hypnotism or getting tickled or whatever else it is people are into, and Blaise doesn't demand to know that Draco likes to watch breasts grow rapidly, unnaturally, to absurd sizes.

It works out.

It's a club in Manchester, tucked away among relatively seedy muggle establishments, and it is accessible only if you've applied thorough glamours. Anonymity is not only allowed and celebrated, but required. It's the sort of place where people crawl around leashed and eat off the floor for their masters, swap partners, wait patiently on their knees for someone to take advantage of them—fuck in public.

He's going to fuck Hermione Granger in public.

Well, first, he's going to use those massive, wondrous tits and their special favorite potion to humiliate her, and _then_ he's going to fuck her in public—and humiliate her even more.

They've fucked in private a few times now, and Draco is amazed he's still alive after the experience of fucking Granger's tits while they grew and grew around his cock. His cock was lost in them to start with, and he isn't small—not _huge_ or anything, but certainly not small. But then they kept growing and growing and _fuck_, the way they bounced, the way his cock disappeared in the mountains of flesh…

Anyway, tonight, it's at this club in Manchester.

She's worn a dress so incredible Draco nearly gave up the whole plan for the evening the moment she turned up on his doorstep, desperate to play with her right then, cock fattening up in his trousers. He thinks he ought to get a medal for restraint. The dress is short, her smooth legs exposed and looking longer due to a pair of heels he didn't think Granger would ever be caught dead in, and it clings to her, tits and hips and arse, and did he mention tits, my _God_.

It's a low, _low_ cut. Her cleavage spills from it, so inviting, so maddening. Every time she moves he's shocked they don't spill right out, the way they jiggle, the way they move. He can't believe they're going to make them _bigger_. Again. He always forgets, thanks to all the resizing, that even natural, Granger's breasts are fucking huge.

He can't believe Weasley left her. Draco thinks he'll do anything, go through anything, to be allowed to touch a pair of breasts like Granger's.

The glamours are just enough to render them unrecognizable and a vague, bland sort of attractive, what Blaise described as the general way of things at the club. Hermione's hair goes blonde and smooth, her lips fuller, her nose smaller, her eyebrows shaped deliberately, but her face isn't really all that different, when it comes down to it, and those tits—that body—is all her.

Draco doesn't want to change his body too much, but he wants to give off the most dominant air he can, and this whole place is fantasy, is for the benefit of their audience as much as them, so he fills himself out a bit when he softens and darkens his features.

He thinks Granger likes it, from the way she eyed him at his flat before they left.

The club loves Granger's tits. Draco knew they would—how could they not? Those huge, magnificent orbs bounce and jiggle and threaten to fall right out of her dress with every move she makes. People of all kinds stare at her. Two different men openly stare and masturbate at the sight of her, and the show hasn't even started yet.

They find a spot at the bar clearly in view of a wide open dance floor. People dance, grind, kiss, bend over, kneel, suck, stroke, and fuck. There are people in collars, people on leashes, people with pig noses, people in masks, people kissing feet, people crawling on all fours. Draco's certain there's a vampire (with a thoroughly hypnotized follower or two) in the crowd.

Draco makes it very obvious to everyone around them that he is spiking Granger's drink. He takes out two potions—the same potions from their first encounter. "Are you ready?" he asks. He makes a show of dosing her gin and tonic, a slow drip, drip of purple, a slow drip, drip of violent pink. The people on either side of them watch with interest. Draco wonders briefly what they really look like, who they really are, if he even knows them—the wizarding world is not huge—but he puts that out of his mind when Granger says, "I'm ready, sir."

"Good," he says, cock already stiffening at "sir," at her spilling cleavage. "Drink up, darling," he says, "That's a good girl," and without even plotting it, without thinking about it in any real way, he picks up the drink and tilts it to her mouth for her.

She shudders. Nearly imperceptibly, her breasts jiggle. Draco wants to touch his cock. He doesn't yet. He pushes the drink against her lips, feeds it to her a little too fast on purpose, so she—and everyone else around—knows he is in charge and can do whatever he wants. "That's a good girl," he repeats as she lets out a small cough, a little rough spot, and spills some alcohol down her chin. "You take it so well," he tells her as she gulps what he gives her too fast.

"She yours?" the man next to Draco asks.

"Yes," says Draco, mouth dry at the question.

"_That's_ a pair of tits," says the man approvingly—to Draco, like Granger is his property.

It's awful, it shouldn't turn him on like this, but it does. Draco's cock is so, so stiff in his trousers.

"It is, isn't it?" Draco says with feigned detachment, as if he isn't seconds away from rubbing his crotch against anything that'll take it. "But you haven't seen anything yet."

"Oh, I haven't?" says the man, grinning, slimy.

"No," says Draco. "This slut is going to put on a show for you tonight. Aren't you, my darling? You and your fat tits."

At this, Draco reaches out and squeezes one of Granger's breasts. It's a risk, not because she won't like it, not because he isn't allowed in a place like this, but because a handful of bulging breast is enough to send Draco reeling, and he's the one who's supposed to be in charge tonight.

But he doesn't let it get the best of him. He smacks her tit lightly so it jiggles, and his cock pulses in his pants, but he holds it together, keeps his face straight.

"Yes, sir," says Granger, and Draco can tell from the breathless quality of her voice, from the way she begins to squirm in her seat, that not only did she like that, but the lust potion is taking effect.

"I like the sound of that," says a man from their other side, leering.

"Is that lust potion hitting you, my darling slut?" says Draco, taking hold of Granger's chin with his long fingers, holding her eyes firmly on him despite the interest of several people around them–-mostly men, but there are some women, too.

"Yes," Granger murmurs.

"Yes, what?" says Draco, strengthening his grip just a bit.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. How's it feel?"

"Cock," Granger blurts, and then she blushes furiously, as if she anticipated a different question.

"Cock?" Draco repeats, and the men around them whistle and snicker. "It feels like cock?"

"I…"

"I'm sure you wish it felt like cock," he says.

Their audience is in it now for sure. Some of the men guffaw. One of them is stroking abstently at a sizable bulge in his trousers. A woman next to him is biting her lip, eyes fixed on Granger's big tits.

"Can't think of anything else, can she?" the first man says.

"Can you?" says Draco, jerking her face back to his when she looks, eyes a bit unfocused by now, at this man. "Can you think of nothing but cock?"

"Cock?" Granger says hopefully, and Draco doesn't know if she's playing it up or not, but ifuck/i. Fuck. He'll give her cock. He'll give her cock right here in front of all these men, shove his throbbing dick down her throat for the crowd, show them who she belongs to.

Draco strokes at her face. "My little cock slut."

"Cock slut," Granger repeats, still blushing.

And then–-the other potion begins to take effect as well.

Slowly, but noticeably, her breasts expand. Draco takes in a sharp, quiet breath as the dress pulls and clings desperately to her massive tits. Hopefully only Granger hears his flustered moment of appreciation.

"Shit," says the man who was already stroking his bulge. He reaches into his pants. The woman watching takes in a deep breath and licks her lips.

Draco moves his hand, rubs his index finger along Granger's lips. She parts them, and he slips his finger inside.

She lets out a quiet little moan and starts sucking at his finger like she can't help herself. Her tits grow a little more, already pushing at the limits of the low, low cut of her dress.

Draco's face feels extremely hot. He's afraid he's going to come in his pants in front of people and ruin the illusion.

"When your tits are big enough," says Draco, slowly pushing his finger in and out of her sucking mouth, "Maybe then you can have some cock. Maybe even lots of cocks. What do you think?"

A man whistles.

"Definitely lots of cocks," says another.

Granger murmurs around his finger, still sucking at it wetly.

"What?" says Draco, "Speak clearly," but he doesn't remove his finger from her mouth–-in fact, he slips in another, spreads them out so her mouth is stretched a bit around them, so drool drips helplessly down her chin.

"'es, sir," Granger murmurs the best she can around his fingers.

"Yes, sir, what? What do you ithink/i, cock slut?"

"I want lots of cocks, sir, please," Granger says desperately around Draco's fingers, now rocking her cunt against the bar stool beneath her. "May I have cock?"

"When your tits are big enough," Draco repeats, "When they're as big as I want them, you can have as much cock as you want. But you know I like them very big, don't you?"

"Yes," Granger says breathlessly. "So big."

"Very, very big," he confirms.

God, this is so fucking hot–-to see Granger reduced to this. They did it once before, the second time they met–-gave Granger the lust potion and allowed it to carry her away–-and the way she was i_dying_/i for cock...fuck, it was like nothing Draco could even have prepared for.

He thinks if he does put his cock in her mouth, he'll blow immediately.

Subtly, he casts a silent charm to keep himself from coming until he releases it. It's usually placed upon submissives by their dominants, and he thinks this is why he didn't think to do it before they arrived; but he wants to last. He must last, for the show to be what they want it to be, for it to be what iGranger/i wants it to be.

He really cares about that, apparently–-about what Granger wants.

About what Granger and her enormous breasts want.

Her huge fucking tits, which are right now falling out of her dress, finally exposed.

"They're getting bigger," one of the men says dumbly. The one with his hand down his pants just keeps staring, open-mouthed, fist jerking away inside his trousers, and Draco thinks he gets a good idea here of what he looks like alone with Granger.

"Not big enough yet for me," Draco says, shocked by the lack of wavering in his voice. He's fighting with everything he has to refrain from becoming that other man, simply jerking until he comes with his mouth open and drooling.

"Fuck, how big you like 'em, mate?" someone asks.

"How big do I like them, Gr–-darling?" Draco says, shaken momentarily by his near slip. He works his fingers in and out of Granger's mouth, watches her as, cloudy eyed, she sucks wetly and desperately at them. "How big do I want those titties to be, my little slut?"

"Big," Granger manages around Draco's fingers, a line of drool escaping her mouth as she tries to speak again.

"Big?" says Draco.

"Huge," says Granger. "Massive. Enormous, as big as my head."

"Bigger," Draco says thickly, rubbing his fingers all along her tongue, relishing her hot, wet mouth, imagining her tongue rubbing all over his hard dick.

"Bigger," Granger says, nearly incomprehensible now due to the ministrations of Draco's fingers. "I should'n be able to move."

"iFuck/i yes," says the wanking man, and Granger's tits keep growing. She tries to take the straps down off her shoulders, but she's too late, they're stuck there, digging into her skin as her breasts bloom.

Draco takes out his wand and cuts the fabric of the straps, and her tits–-by coincidence, he thinks, at this point–-grow further, as though escaping even further from the dress' grasp. They're big enough now to be in the way of Draco's attention to her mouth, pressing against him, pushing him away from her, and if he hadn't cast that spell on his cock, he thinks he would come right now.

Unable to help himself, he removes his soaking fingers from her mouth and grabs a growing breast with each hand, kneading the flesh so much bigger than his hands, watching it spread and squish beneath him. "These tiny little tits," he says teasingly, squeezing and fondling them, playing with her hard nipples. Her areolas have stretched wider with the rest of her boobs, and this makes him want to start thrusting against her. "We need them so much bigger, don't we? They need to be much bigger to please all the cock you want."

"Yes," Granger gasps. "Yes, sir, please!"

She shudders, chest heaving, as Draco plays with her tits, with her nipples, and her eyes roll to the back of her head.

"Did she just come?" asks the wanking man.

"She did, didn't she?" says the woman.

"She came," says Draco. "Little slut, and she'll come again–-wait until they get sucked. Any volunteers?"

"iShit/i," says the first man, and he scrambles forward, cock tenting his trousers.

Before long, Granger has the first man sucking enthusiastically at her left breast, and two women sucking at the right, battling for the nipple with their tongues touching, stroking, swapping spit. Other men grope and knead at the expanding flesh. Granger is shuddering, soaking wet, coming, eyes rolling, gasping.

Draco sits back like a king watching a show put on for his express entertainment and allows himself to touch his cock.

He takes it right out of his trousers and strokes it firmly, watches Granger's breasts get so heavy she can no longer sit up on the barstool. She stops bothering to hold up the weight, slides down until she's on the floor, back against the bar, tits ballooning from her, bigger than her head, pulling her forward. People suck and grope at them.

"Do you think you deserve cock yet?" Draco asks, pumping steadily at his cock.

"Please," Granger says, gasping. "Please–-cock."

Some of them men start pulling theirs out, but Draco says, "Remember she's mine, please. This cock goes first."

He can't believe it, but there's no other display of dominance about it, no attempt to usurp him, no groans or complaints–-they just step back and wait.

Draco steps forward, stroking in front of her as she lies there, unable to move, twitching and shuddering, gargantuan breasts heaving. "I'd love to feed you," he says, standing over her, "But your boobs are so fat I don't think I can reach that hungry little slut mouth."

Granger groans. She grabs at her breasts, but they're so large she can barely reach her own nipples to play with them like she so clearly wants to.

"I guess I'll have to use these," he says, pushing forward to slide his cock between the mountains of flesh. "It is what they're for, after all," he says, and he moans loudly, unable to help himself, as he sinks his cock into the sweaty crease between her absurd tits.

Once he's there, he doesn't think he'll ever be able to leave.

His balls slap against the flesh of her tits, sending rippling ways through breasts bigger than her head, perhaps bigger than the rest of her by now. He fucks and fucks them, spurred on by his audience, sure he'd have come several times by now if it was him doused with lust potion and without any magic holding him back.

"She wants more cock," he manages to choke out eventually. "Give the big titty slut the cocks she was promised."

And they do. Her breasts are large enough now to accommodate several. Men find a spot and slide their dicks between her flesh and fuck her massive tits, not caring at all if they touch each other, desperate to be a part of this demonstration of size, of sluttiness. If they can't find a space between her tits, they find a spot to rub against, to slap, to come on. Draco is fairly certain at least one person is taking pictures, and it doesn't matter, because they don't even look like themselves–-Granger least of all now, as she is worthless as anything but a mountain of fat titty flesh.

He doesn't allow himself to come until every other man has–-until her breasts are soaked with come and she looks like the stuff of the filthiest possible fantasy a man could have, twitching and writhing as the woman Draco allowed to eat her pussy is buried between her legs.

Then, he sends the woman and her drenched face away from Granger's soaked pussy and slides his cock in, ending the spell holding his swollen balls back.

Her breasts are so monumentally huge he cannot even hope to see her false face as he fucks her cunt. He stares at the massive mounds of flesh in front of him, gripping at them with hands that now seem tiny, as he fucks her wildly, gasping at the undulating of the fat in front of him, and finally icomes/i, hard, so hard he's surprised he doesn't black out.

And then he finishes his night the way Granger requested–-one of the aspects of this Granger whispered in his ear, fantasizing and furiously rubbing her clit, as they planned this outing.

He leaves her there. He leaves her there, spent, against the bar, covered in come, tits too big to be reasonable, to even be sexy to a large majority of people. She looks stupid. Ridiculous. Like a spent fetish slut. And he leaves her there and sits back at a table–-in her view, of course–-and fucks the face of a complete stranger whose master is sharing her around, a stranger with big tits, but normal ones. He fucks the stranger's face, the part of Granger he couldn't reach, while staring right at her, meeting her cloudy eyes, her fucked-out expression.

Twice, men who weren't around for the fun masturbate over her and come on her spent tits.

All the while, Draco's either fucking the face of another woman, like he never would have allowed himself before Blaise introduced him to this fetish service, before he started meeting up with Granger, or jacking off, watching her spent at the bar.

Later that night, he helps her wash off in the shower at his flat, because it's the polite thing to do. Her tits are still shrinking back to normal–-now somewhat of a human size, but still too big to fit back into that dress of hers. He pays special attention to those as he washes them–-soaping them up over and over again–-rubbing his hands over and over the slippery flesh.

They were very dirty, after all.


End file.
